Aftermath
by Rinny-Bird
Summary: America wondered where being an isolationist had gone.


The air in the room was so tense and thick that America felt as if he were choking. None of the other nations gave any indication of having the same feeling, but America could tell that they were all just as nervous as he was and just wanted to get the division of Germany over with so that they could go home. He, along with Britain and France, had already divided the Western portion up amongst themselves but they were all wary to give Eastern Germany to the Soviet Union.

"Can we just get this over with?" Gilbert asked, leaning back heavily in his chair. He seemed to be the only one out of the six that acted like his normal self. "I already know that the awesome me is going to be stuck with the commie."

"I'd watch what you're saying," Russia chided, a darker tone creeping into his usually childish voice. "You're going to be a commie as well, East Germany."

Gilbert's grip on the arm of his chair tightened to the point that his knuckles were white at being called East Germany, but he kept his mouth clamped shut, sending a warning look to Germany to do the same.

The younger of the brothers looked the worst out of any of the other nations in the room. There were dark circles under his eyes and his usually immaculate hair was in complete disarray. The war had taken its toll on him, but that was to be expected.

His people had been the cause of it, and now he was being punished by losing his brother to the Soviet Union.

A little voice in the back of America's head told him that it was unnecessary but the bigger one, the one with more power, told him that it was completely necessary. Millions upon millions had lost their lives, fighting in a war that could've easily been stopped and Germany had not suffered enough.

The loss of his brother was very much needed.

"But East Germany is correct," Russia continued, pulling America from his thoughts. "Can we just get this over with? I have matters to attend to at home, as well as you."

"We will be finished soon enough," Britain said, through gritted teeth, his already clenched fists tightened even more.

Russia noticed.

"This is taking longer than when you signed over Eastern Poland, da?" he said, his voice once again back to its childish self.

"Easter Poland didn't have a representative like East Germany does," Britain snapped, his temper flaring.

"But that shouldn't matter," Russia replied, "Representatives have no say in what happens to their land. The only thing we're needed for is the final signatures, which you have yet to sign."

There was silence between everyone and the air grew even thicker with tension. America let his gaze travel around the room once before it landed on the glaringly innocent sheet of paper that already had Russia's signature (human and country) on it. His eyes flickered back to the other countries in the room before landing once more on the document, Russia's signature stark against the white of the paper.

A sigh escaped his lips.

He really didn't want to be the first to sign it, but Britain was adamant to drag this meeting out as long as humanly possible and France wouldn't do anything unless Britain did it first, especially when it came to something like this. All America really wanted to do was go home and sleep for days on end in an attempt to push the second world war to the back of his mind so that he could get some actual rest.

The second he made a move to grab the document and pen, all eyes were on him but he refused to look up and meet any of their gazes. If he did, his resolution would break and he wouldn't be able to sign East Germany over to the Soviet Union, even after Britain and France eventually did. The room was completely silent as the blonde looked over said document and once he started to sign it, the sound of pen against paper was the only thing heard.

America ignored the eyes glued to his form, his hand clenching slightly around the pen. The small voice in his head was screaming at him to stop, to think about what he was doing. He was tearing apart siblings, brothers who had been together longer than he had been __a nation__. What right did he have to do this? What right did he have to tear a family apart?

But once again that voice was overpowered by the stronger one, the one that wanted revenge for all the innocent blood that had been shed. Gilbert may not have had any first hand dealings with WWII, but it didn't mean that he was innocent of anything. He was a part of Germany, after all, and it would be counter-productive if West Germany was handed over to the Soviet Union instead of East.

With this thought planted firmly in his mind, America finished signing the document before sliding it quickly over to Britain, his eyes still firmly planted on the wooden table like it was the most interesting thing in the world. He heard more than saw Britain sign it and, against his better judgment, he glanced up only to meet the gaze of Gilbert.

The ex-country's eyes were narrowed and his lips were pressed into a thin, hard line. If America could look down, he'd noticed that the albino's hands were clenched tightly around the arms of his chair, but America couldn't bring himself to look away. Betrayal was swimming in Gilbert's eyes, but so was acceptance. He knew that he would be given to the Soviet Union, and he knew that he would be given away by the people he trusted. But he accepted it, something that America would have never been able to do. He loved his freedom too much to ever accept something like what was happening to Gilbert.

The sound of a chair scraping across the ground, caused America to jerk his eyes away just in time to see France rush from the room, the Frenchman's hands shaking and his eyes glancing anywhere but at Gilbert. Britain was the next to leave, grumbling something about stupid French frogs being too emotional as he gathered up his and France's things. Before he fully left the room, though, he sent a glance to America that warned him not to let Germany do anything stupider than he already had.

America sighed again and wondered where being an isolationist had disappeared to.

* * *

><p><strong>What is this I don't even-<strong>

**But anyway, this was just something I whipped up during one of my history classes when we were learning about WWII. And yes, I know that all of Poland was given to the Soviet Union but I am much to lazy to go back and try to fix that little blip. And besides, I'm an author and we twist and turn things to make it work.**


End file.
